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Dashiell's lone brow rose almost entirely into his hairline in surprise at the cold orders put to him. He had expected angry words and slamming doors but not for a second an invitation to come in. Nicodemo's tone brooked no argument though and while he may have hesitated for a single heartbeat, Dash was quick to bow into the entrance.

He said nothing as the other man slowly shuffled into the kitchen, leaning heavily on his cane and quite obviously in a great deal of pain. Instead Dashiell kept his head facing forward and allowed the man to take all the time he needed to drag himself into the kitchen and get seated. The last thing Dash wanted to do was offer insult or assistance to wound the man's pride or reign his ire down upon himself. He was positively certain that the crippled figure before him would would not welcome the help of a man who had nearly beaten the very life out of him.

Once he was settled though, Dashiell placed the box that had been clutched in his hand on the table before Nico. "These are for you. I promise I didn't poison them or spit in them," he commented in a weak attempt at humor though he didn't bring his gaze up from the box to see the icy stare he was sure those golden eyes would be offering him. "They're from SweetMouse's bakery."

The letter of apology was unintentionally left atop the box as the former Jockey stepped back to take in the room. It was a sight better than his own kitchen. Reese had been the one to demand that he keep the place just so and with their death he had just allowed things to pile up more and more. Here at least those piles were organized more or less.

He sighed, biting the tip of his tongue between his back molars before releasing it and finally looking at Nico. Defensively his arms crossed over his broad chest as his hip leaned back against one of the counters. "I don't know how to make tea," Dashiell admitted quietly. "Coffee is easy, pop in a capsule and press a button." His lips were pursed tightly as he waited for the ridicule that was sure to follow. Reese hadn't called him Dumbshit Dashpar for nothing after all. "Sorry to be an even further disappointment. Re-" his breath hitched as he realized whose name he was about to utter before he switched gears, "Ryul would be the second to declare that I'm a kitchen hazard." He didn't need to be bringing Reese into this too, at least not befor he apologized for that too.

Physical DescriptionJenny is made of goo, literally. She can change the consistency and texture of it; at times she can feel more like a jellyfish, jello, or a slug even. She's gotten quite adept at mimicking the texture and density of skin/flesh, as well as changing her colors. Traditionally she appears as a girl with rather pale skin, large eyes, plush lips and the face of a real sweetheart. She likes to let her hair remain "natural" (a flowing, amorphous blob of jade green) when possible, but can change it to mimic real hair texture and color--usually a light ginger, cause she likes how it looks. She usually only goes to the effort of looking entirely "normal" when she's in public on her own (read: has escaped her handlers.) Her pupils/irises are a bit frog/goat-like in appearance, with a horizontal pupil and striking metallic gold hues. These are the one thing she tends to change the least, though she is capable of it.

Being made of slime, she can also change her shape to just about anything, even if it goes against most living beings' physiology. She favors a shape with a large bust, slender waist and wide hips with thick, curvaceous thighs. She tends to have a pair of horns adorning her head as well, though they change shape and size depending on whatever she feels like that day. She doesn't own many actual clothes, preferring to mimic the look and feel of them instead.

PersonalityOn stage, Jenny is adorable, perhaps a bit naive, unknowingly flirtatious, and playful. She charms her fans in cute outfits with thigh highs, short skirts that allow for brazen panty shots. Her dances are cute and lighthearted, though quite often her lyrics tend to have double meaning as sexual innuendos.

In real life, Jenny is perfectly aware of the effect she can have on people, and is not adverse to using her charms as means of manipulation to get what she wants. She likes toying with people (boys in particular) and then leaving them hanging, almost as much as she loves getting into all sorts of trouble and sticking her nose in others' business where it doesn't belong. She's extremely daring, confident, and mischievous--a real trickster when she can get away with it.

HistoryJenny immigrated to Aedolis from way out in space, and her actual origins are unknown, mostly because she sees no reason to talk about it. Presumably, she had as normal a life as a demon can have, which could've been literally anything. But she was drawn to Aedolis due to her intrigue of the sheep-like contentment of the people living in it. She found herself a talent agency, and worked her way up from maid cafes to pop star idol status over the course of a few years.

She settled into Samariel for the climate, needing constant moisture so she doesn't lose mass. Interestingly enough, while she's appeared in numerous media types of propaganda for them, she finds most Pilots to be pathetic, pointless little things that think way too highly of themselves; her opinion of them is not a positive one. For obvious reasons, she keeps these thoughts entirely to herself.

The rest of the night was as eventful as Hugh hoped it would be. Harley had worn him out into the wee hours of the morning and staying over proved less awkward than if he offered to make the little guy breakfast. He'd showered, dressed and took off before Harley woke up, though he'd kissed the small Kulshedra on the cheek and did make him breakfast, from whatever leftovers were of the pizza. Didn't look like the guy ate much considering there wasn't anything in the fridge except ice cubes.

But it was time to head to work. There were still Pilots in Solarta and there were still dragons. And as long as there were still dragons, they would need fixing. Serenity seemed well enough, and after linking up with her, went off to do just that. She seemed all right.

Sometimes folks just needed a moment of peace.

He went about with his tools, light up a torch and going to work on a particularly lazy dragon. He didn't pay attention to her name. Just that she liked the sun. And didn't ever let her Pilot go anywhere.

Cooking and sharing dinner with a gorgeous woman. Few things made life worth living in Quillian's humble opinion. His own apartment still had dust collecting on things, small circles when he finally did come home where it had settled, and thus removed from it's place. Quillian was a clean fellow, but never being home made it difficult to have companionship that didn't revolve around machines doing most of the care for the critters he'd always wanted to keep.

Sometimes it was just better to be alone. Or so it was just easier to reason that way. Even if it wasn't really true. Ignoring it meant he didn't have to worry about it.

Ignoring it meant it didn't exist, right? Right.

Quillian set the groceries down and started to unpack them, placing them on the counter neatly as his eyes flicked to other parts of the apartment, taking in the scare decorations but he could say that it was definitely comfy. It was a woman's place. Distinctly Kielen and he smiled just slightly - mostly to himself - that he had been invited into the private space of such a lovely creature.

Maybe it wasn't much to her, but the gesture was no less appreciated all the same.

"Yeah, some wine would be nice," he said, his ears literally perking up at the offer a drink. He wasn't nervous, not by a longshot, but he definitely was curious, wary a bit, and observing Kielen when he got the chance, opening up the box of pasta delicately, eyes flicking to her whole body, drinking her in, and feeling his ears heat up.

He sniffed. Smoke couldn't have been coming out of them could they? No of course not, that was ridiculous. "I'll uhh get the oven preheated." He winked in her direction and went about doing just that, only then just remembering his jacket and shrugging out of it.

__________________QUICK STATSName UtaniAge 5,200+ ishGender FemaleSpecies FaeEthnicity Originally EssyrniHeight 5'6"Occupation Owns a burlesque house in Haviah, information broker, spy, resistance fighter; currently, on the run from the Aedolian governmentResidence Originally Haviah, currently stuck in the Wastes for who knows how long.VoiceVictoria Harwood [Sir Integra]

__________________IN-DEPTH STUFF

Physical DescriptionUtani is a girl of average size, with olive-tinted tan skin and hair that fades like a sunset from burgundy to orange and yellow at the tips, though it's unclear if this is natural or if she dyes it. Her eyes are a bright lime green; both ears have piercings, as well as her nose, and it seems she is rather fond of gold. She has a rather curvaceous figure, with a large bust, small waist (likely achieved from many years of corset training) and wide hips and big thighs. She is fond of clothing that shows off her figure, and particularly enjoys in being scandalous and showing her legs and bust. She typically tends to wear leather riding gear, with two kriss blades strapped to the inside of each thigh and her trusty crossbow slung across her back.

PersonalityConfident, articulate, calculating. She'll find reasons to help people that can benefit her, and say that's why she does it, but deep down she probably just likes being kind. She's incredibly smart, and great at bargaining and negotiations. Utani is also protective, a very matronly person who takes care of her own, and will bring her ultimate wrath down upon anyone who dares hurt someone she cares about or has extended her protection to. If she does offer you protection, it is a big deal--she rarely gets involved with others' problems, be they political or otherwise.

Magic/Abilities

-Immortal (though she can be slain)-Nature magic-Glamour magic-Proficient swordsmanship, archery, and hand to hand combat

RelationshipsA history of husbands (most died of old age) and loooots of kids, some still alive to this day probably.

Most recent Ex-Husband: A vile and disgusting piece of shit that she's vowed she's gonna murder some day, no doubts.

HistoryUtani's been a lot of things in her long, long life. A pirate, a performer, a soldier, a traitor--the list goes on and on. She's got an array of skills and a list a mile long of lovers she tied the knot with. She's still a rather genuine person, most of those former husbands of hers being relationships of genuine love and compassion. She's never really been one to sleep around, she takes romance fairly seriously--though that isn't to say she hasn't had her good share of fun with boys before.

Most recently, she fought alongside her sister in many battles, her home in Aedolis housing an entire secret room of her former armor, uniforms, and old weapons, which is currently being guarded by a close friend. She was married to a Gospel, or who she thought was a Gospel; acting on the orders of his higher ups he inserted himself quite fittingly into resistance efforts which was where they met, got married. Had a son. And acting on those orders again, when the higher ups decided the jig was up, it was up. He attempted to murder his own wife for her connections and involvement in "terrorism", but their son jumped in the way and got killed instead.

Utani barely escaped with her life, seething with a mother's fury even to this day, five years later. She had to flee the country for now, escaping to the Wastes until it's safe for her to sneak her way back in. In the meantime she's been tearing up the landscape with a good ol' recycled motorcycle, surviving on her own and using her copious connections and street smarts to get by, never once forgetting the betrayal she experienced or the look on her son's face when he let go of his last breath.

She's gonna make that son of a bitch pay, if it's the last thing she does.

The day that one of his squad came to his door and said they wanted to talk, Grisham couldn't say that it had to be something positive. Especially since it seemed to be news that couldn't be shared during drill time, or in the breaks in between.Whatever it was the matter clearly weighed heavily on Matt Wright's mind. The boy was young, he shouldn't have anything serious to worry about. Given that fact, it could only mean that whatever was on his mind had to be rather grave.

While he wasn't interested in coddling his squad, expecting each one to stand on their own when it came down to the nitty gritty, in the end the Hellions were still a team. A squad that depended on one another. And if Matt couldn't depend on Grisham when he needed him, then Grisham had no place on that squad.

Although his demeanor was casual, even conversational as he watched the young Pilot Cardinal with steady blue eyes, he could slowly feel his gut gradually twist, and his grip on the coffee mug was tensing. He could only ease it when at last Matt started to speak, pulling a something from out of his pocket that looked an awful like something...

Grisham's eyes shot wide, opened up like flowers budding in Margad spring, once the sonogram was slid closer to him. His eyes would be able to spot that even crumbled up and torn to bits. Slowly he pulled it toward him and furled it open, the pad of his thumb caressing the bottom of it and he felt his breath hitch, throat tightening up, grinning down at the little image of the baby that evidently was coming mid-July.

Grisham's face split into a wide grin, his hands settling the picture into the light of his kitchen and illuminating the image more clearly. That grin was practically ear to ear, his stomach growing wild with an intense array of butterflies that he blinked away for fear of tears sparking through. Putting the sonogram down, he handed it back to Matt.

"That's great Chatterbox. Really!" he cheered, finally taking a sip of his coffee. The grim face that gave him his namesake actually chuckled and the glee in his eyes was genuine. What for the brevity of a few seconds before Grisham's free hand came flying up from the table and struck Matt on the back of his head with a loud thwaaap!

"What the hell is wrong with you?! Of course you're not prepared for a baby. You just fucking graduated.Fucking dragon balls, Chatterbox. I'd smack you again if I thought it'd do any good. But also because I know it won't and that first hit was one hell of a satisfying smack." Grisham's hand that was still wrapped around the cup tipped it up to his mouth, the sting of brandy burning his tongue a bit along with the coffee itself. The scent bringing him back to his senses.

"But other than that Chatterbox, i gotta say congratulations. There's no other feeling better in the world than being a parent, amigato. You're scared. That's normal. That fear never goes away. But you're a Hellion, don't forget that. Through and through. You'll do just fine, son."

There was no question on who the other parent of the baby had been. Iri closed his eyes and let out a long shaky breath. He didn't want to be in a hospital again. He'd just gotten out of the hospital. Stupid plate. If he hadn't slipped on the plate he'd be home by now in his own... Bed. Or something. Like a needy cat, Iri pressed his head against the hand and closed his eyes before he slipped his hands around Sevan's wrists and shimmied to one side of the bed, keen on tugging the other Pilot onto it.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for," His voice was soft and tired and moved his hand to the bandage on his head before he pressed at it and finally picked it off and threw it onto the floor. A little bruise at the hairline before he sighed and looked down at his hands before finally sighed and pressed his fists to his eyes. Did Iri tell him?

Swallowing thickly, Iridescent pulled his hands down and away before curling his arm around Sevan's torso, eyes closing for a moment. "I didn't know," He finally whispered, hollow sounding. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. I didn't think and... If I had only been more careful..." He moved his hand down to his abdomen, where he'd been unknowingly trying to nurture a ... Iri winced at the thought. Another sigh. His head hurt and he just wanted to sleep but Sev was here and...

"I wanted to surprise you." He admitted, flushing and looking away, "I was on my way home and I was going to just... Pop up at your door and demand hugs and ask if I could stay the night. It was going to be awkward and we were going to blush and shuffle our feet." Iri sighed and let his head fall back onto the pillow, "That failed though. I had cramps and i leaned on the counter but... I put my hand on a plate and it slipped. Went down like a bag of rocks, i hit my head and then there was blood so... I panic called for medical, I..." Iri glanced away, "I don't really need to be here."

A small tired smile, "I'm sorry I made you come all the way here, I owe you dinner." A nice topic change. Then the mask cracked and scared Iri poked through, "Will you stay with me? I really missed you."

When Nico answered the door, the last thing they ever expected to see was Dashiell Feldspar, of all people, standing there on their doorstep. Quietly, Nico remembered the days when welcome mats were a “thing”, and also quietly considered pulling the nonexistent mat out from under him.

But something in how Dash stood gave them pause, though, and so Nico could only stand there, glancing down at the box in the man’s arms and the white paper in his grip. A squint, and then Nico was staring Dash in the face, all burn scars and angry skin and even angrier stance.

But not at them. This wasn’t the body language of a man come back for another fight. And so Nico frowned, their lips turned down in a harsh curve as they considered just what was being said.

Apologize?

Dashiell was here to apologize?

Distantly, Nico remembered the challenge they had issued, and made a soft scoff of surprise as it all caught up with them. Right. Right. Well, color them some shade of surprise. They never had actually expected Dash to do anything of the sort. Just grumble and huff and make it all out to be some kind of witch hunt as was the usual.

But no. There he was.

Nico considered the request, and opened their mouth before shutting it again. While they would listen to an attempt at being actually sorry, the day had been…

A bad one. Aches and pains every step, such to the point where Nico hadn’t been able to make it beyond their front door all day. Even their clothes reflected this: thin, soft t shirt and even softer sweatpants, and nothing else because the pressure against their skin was just too much to bear.

The distance from the couch to the front door had been agonizing. The idea of standing there while Dashiell gritted out some manner of amends was… equally agonizing. Just a little less agonizing, it turned out, than inviting Dashiell into their home to make this more comfortable.

So that’s what Nico did.

“Come in.” They said, clipped and sparing no manner of warmth in either of those two very short words. “And make some tea. And then you can apologize all you like.”

When Sevan was young, and felt lost in a wash of thoughts and memories and feelings he just couldn’t seem to shake, the warden of the orphanage taught him to sit and meditate. To focus on the simplicity of his own breathing. Nothing else would stay— it would pass through with every exhale, like water through cupped hands.

Close your eyes, breathe in on a five count, hold on a five count, exhale on a five count. Empty out all else. The surface thoughts of the civilians he passed every day. The memories of comrades cut down beside him. The lingering fears that the last time he had seen Iridescent, soft and shimmering and beautiful even in the dimness of the evening light, would be the last time he would ever see him.

The few times they had been able to keep contact had been the highlight of his day. Iri fell asleep first, of course, but the soft sound of his breathing so close to Sevan had just felt so nice that Sevastian didn’t have the heart to hang up. That, and what if Iri woke up under all those wrong ceilings? He needed to sleep, especially doing whatever important work he’d been doing, and—

And so Sevastian meditated. Because how else could he focus on being even remotely functional when it seemed every trick of the light had his heartbeat racing? The phone call had come after what had felt like an eternity of silence, and Sevastian had thrown aside all thoughts of inner peace and crashed all the way across the living room to answer it.

But, instead of hearing Iri’s voice, quiet and soft and shy, Sevan got to listen to a stranger apologize for the late hour and that a complication had arisen during the line of duty, and if he would please report to the medical unit to go over important—

Sevan didn’t remember rushing out the door. Didn’t remember hopping in place to get his boots on halfway down the hallway. Didn’t remember tripping at the end of that same hallway. And certainly didn’t remember running full tilt all the way to the hospital where Iridescent was being treated.

There were the usual annoyances: signing in, making demands of people who had no idea what he was on about and had their own protocol to follow. And then proceeding to interrogate every single uniformed individual within eyesight until, finally, finally, Sevan was face to face with Iri’s doctor.

He almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Stress he could understand. Duress. The effects of those on the body, especially one in a delicate condition. The loss of that delicate condition.

A baby. There had been a baby. There had been a baby and now there was just… nothing. And Sevan hadn’t even known. Had Iri known? Had it even been too early for that? How long had it been since…?

The following hours became a blur. Iri was still unconscious, still being given an IV cocktail, and was still where Sevastian couldn’t reach him. Sev couldn’t even remember what time he’d first made it there. He wasn’t even sure what time it was right then. But the time spent roving the hospital in lieu of searching for that old inner peace eventually spat him out at some mid-level food court, complete with a 24-hour coffee shop where the equally exhausted employees smiled their sympathetic smiles and slid him a concoction of sugar and caffeine that very well could have landed him in a hospital room himself.

The drink was about halfway done by the time Sevan wandered back to the hall that would lead him to Iridescent, and caught the same doctor looking down at a chart and looking alarmingly pensive.

And then just genuinely alarmed when Sevan reached out with one massive hand and kept him from taking one more step.

“Pilot Torje, you’re still here. Pilot Nebula is awake. He’s… in a bit of an emotional state, it seems his condition was not something he had been aware of—”

“He’s awake.”

“Yes, I—”

Sevan was not around to find out what else the man had to say. He didn’t care; all that mattered was the man laying in the hospital bed, how Iri’s hands were at his face and the unmistakable shake of Iri’s shoulders as he cried. Sevan shoved his coffee cup down and immediately forgot it existed, and moved over to Iri’s bedside.

“Hey,” he said, lamely, because nothing else quite summarized the storm of feelings that rattled in his ribcage as ‘hey’.

“I’m sorry,” he said shortly after, just as lamely, petting at Iri’s shimmering hair and being very careful where the hair ended and bandaging began. “I’m so sorry, Iri.”

Iridescent missed his apartment. Missed his ceiling. He pushed a hand through his shimmery rainbow hair and looked at himself in the dingy mirror of the literal one room he'd spent the last week in. Frowning at the tired look in his eyes. The sickly paleness of his skin. Usually he'd had a nice healthy flush but the past few days he'd been so tired and clammy feeling.

At least it was time to go though. The hit was done, he'd laid low for the gossip to die down - it officially had been a heart attack. Now it was time to finally go home. Do the paperwork. Rest a bit and then... Go out again. Iri sighed wearily, dreading the next time he'd be sent out. Maybe request a transfer when he got back home and rested up. Talked to someone.

He'd done his best to not think of Sevastian. It just made his chest ache and aside from the lengthy conversation between jobs in which it ended up them just falling asleep and breathing into the phone, Iri had kept contact to a minimum. A maximum for what he was technically allowed but... Iri rolled his shoulders and looked around the room, making sure he wasn't forgetting anything personally important.

There was nothing there and the cleaners would be by in a few hours to make the little place look like Iri had never been there. Clothes would be burned or donated. Blankets. Left over food. Or at least that was the plan. A cramp gripped Iridescents midsection and he held his side before he made his way to the little kitchenette, one hand resting on the counter while he breathed through the sharp jolt of pain.

Apendix? Something fucking hurt. It was unfortunate placing of the plate when the next jolt of pain hit, his hand slipped and Iri's head connected with the drawer, giving him a daze and a new focal point of pain. The fuck. Iri's heart started to thump and with a grunt, he fumbled with his com and tried to contact anyone but distraction quickly took over when he felt something wet at his legs.

"The fuck," He panted, sweat breaking out on his forehead. He was on his way home, dammit. Tears of frustration and pain pricked his bright eyes and he pressed his forehead to the floor and breathed deeply to calm himself. He could deal with a little bit of pain and a forgotten period. That was fine. It was fine. Still, he pressed a hand to his abdomen when the sharp pain didn't let up and he was already so tired. It wasn't sleep, so much as his brain just short circuited. Every time he moved he hurt and there was no bed to crawl into and cry on. His heat where he hit it throbbed.

Fuck. Iridescent tentatively reached down to his legs. He was wearing pants so he was just expecting a little accident, his hand came back covered in red and he was alarmed at how fresh and bright it was. Did he get poisoned? He was dying. Iri half expected to cough up blood next but all that hit him was nausea from the pain. Again, he tried the com, smearing blood across the screen before he could finally call for medical attention. Bleeding. Head trauma. Location.

He didn't move though. He curled up on his side, one arm tucked under his head and the other wrapped protectively over his belly, eyes squeezed shut.

Iridescent probably fell asleep, a restless one because when he woke up - or at least he didn't remember the timeline from after he called for medical. His eyes popped open and a nurse tending to the iv of fluids beside gave him, the nurse gave an owlish look before the unmistakable look turned to sympathy. A button was pushed and Iri just closed his eyes again.

"Iridescent Nebula?" A husky soft voice said his golden eyes popped open, and the doctor got his full attention "We're deeply sorry about the baby," He sighed, clearly not enjoying the news he had to give, "by the time we got you here there was nothing we could do except make you as comfortable as possible." Iri stared, confused, eyes wide. His hands fluttered to his abdomen and he just... Stared.

It was an odd reaction. A flutter of excitement because he'd been pregnant only for it to immediately be dashed. His eyes widened when he remembered what'd he'd been putting his body through the last few weeks since... "I was pregnant?" He asked, voice thick and confused.

"You... I'm so sorry you had to find out this way. We had taken the liberty of calling your emergency contacts - You've been asleep for almost 6 hours after we tended to the bump on your head and gave you pain killers." The doctor sighed and looked down and away.

A glance at his 'clipboard' - a device on his arm that projected a list of things for him to mention or take notes about. "We've scheduled you for a D&C at 8 tomorrow morning - it's 18:36 now - It's a quick procedure and unfortunately a little invasive but it's to make sure nothing is left behind that could cause issues or infections. Please get some rest before then," A sigh and the Doctor gave the bed a pat before going to the door, turning just in time and the door clicking so softly to miss Iri pressing his face into his hands and trying to cry quiet heartbroken sobs.